Lenobia's Vow: A House of Night Novella by P. C. Cast, Kristin Cast

at Mary’s feet.
    “Girls,” the nun addressed her crowd, and then with a slight smile she nodded her head in acknowledgment of the crew members who were beginning to congregate curiously toward them. “And good gentlemen. Let us begin this lovely morning with the Marian litanies as a thanksgiving for the news that we are mere days from our destination of New Orleans.” She motioned for the watching crew to come closer.
    As they approached, Lenobia looked for Martin in the group but was disappointed when she did not see his familiar face.
    “Oh, my! We need a brand from below to light Mary’s taper. Lenobia, child, could you please—”
    “Do not fret, Sister. I will light Mary’s fire.”
    The girls parted like fog to sunlight and the Bishop strode through them with a long wooden brand in his hand, the end of which flickered with flame. He offered it to the nun, and she took it with a strained smile.
    “Thank you, Father. Would you like to lead the Marian litany this morning?”
    “No, Sister. I believe the litanies of Mary are more fully appreciated when led by a woman.” With a bow of his head, the Bishop retreated to the far side of the aft promenade, where the crew members were gathering. He stood in front of them.
    Lenobia thought his choice of position made it appear uncomfortably as if he were planning to lead the phalanx of men against them.
    Nonplussed, Sister Marie Madeleine lit the candle and the incense. Then she knelt and genuflected. Lenobia and the rest of the girls followed her example. Lenobia was positioned to the nun’s left, facing the statue, but also turned so that she could see the Bishop—so she saw his arrogant hesitation, which made his kneeling appear patronizing rather than obedient. The men around him followed suit.
    Marie Madeleine bowed her head and pressed her hands together prayerfully. With closed eyes she began the litany in a clear, strong voice:
    “Holy Mary, pray for us.”
    “Pray for us,” the girls repeated obediently.
    “Holy Mother of God,” Marie Madeleine intoned.
    “Pray for us.” This time the crew members took up the litany and added their voices to the prayer.
    “Holy Virgin of virgins.”
    “Pray for us,” the crowd invoked.
    “Mother of Christ,” the nun continued.
    “Pray for us…”
    Lenobia repeated the phrase, but she was unable to quiet her spirit enough to close her eyes and bow her head, as were the other girls. Instead her gaze and her mind wandered.
    “Pray for us…”
    Three days left in the voyage, and Marie Madeleine says I cannot go to the cargo hold again.
    “Mother of divine grace.”
    “Pray for us…”
    Martin! How am I going to get word to him? I must see him again, even if it means I chance another encounter with the Bishop.
    “Mother most pure.”
    “Pray for us…”
    Lenobia’s gaze flitted to the group of men and the man in purple robes who knelt before them. Her eyes widened in shock. He did not have his head bowed and his eyes closed. He was staring at the statue, in front of which the nun was on her knees in prayer. His hands were not folded. Instead, one hand was stroking the shining ruby crucifix that hung in the middle of his chest. The other was making a slight but odd motion, just a flutter of his fingers, almost as if he were beckoning movement from something before him.
    “Mother most chaste.”
    “Pray for us…”
    Confused, Lenobia followed the Bishop’s gaze and realized the priest was staring not at the statue but at the single thick pillar candle lit at the feet of Mary, directly in front of the nun. It was at that moment that the flame intensified, blazing with such a fierce intensity that wax seemed to weep from it. Then wax and flame joined as sparks, and fire exploded from the taper and cascaded onto Marie Madeleine’s linen habit.
    “Sister! The fire!” Lenobia cried, getting to her feet to run toward Marie Madeleine.
    But the strange fire had already become a terrible blaze. The nun cried